i'll let you rest in my arms
by upwiththebirds33
Summary: clint cleans bucky up after a mission, it's his fault bucky got hurt


Clint cleaning up bucky after a mission, it's his fault bucky got captured/hurt

/

editing: not a ton but it looks good to me

word count: ~1500

pairings: surprise it's winterhawk

warnings: pretty angsty, descriptions of wounds but not too bad i think

/

"Oh my… Bucky, I'm so sorry. I—I didn't mean to—I—"

"It's fine. Its not your fault, Clint. Can I—could I get a hand?" Bucky chuckled hoarsely at his joke: Hydra had taken his arm, ripped the wires from Bucky's shoulder without a second thought. His face was bruised—they had evidently tried to brainwash him again—and his clothes were ragged, falling off his thin frame. Blood seeped slowly from a cut on his arm, and he was limping, almost hopping to avoid putting pressure on his right leg.

"You want me to carry you?"

Bucky sighed. "Yeah, please," he said, unable to keep the defeat out of his voice, "if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Clint said quietly as he picked Bucky up, bridal style. "Is your leg broken? If it is, we should probably go to the hospi—"

"No." Bucky said as firmly as he could manage. Suddenly, his expression turned panicked. "Please, I didn't mean it, you can do what you think is best, I'm sorry, I—"

"Shh, its okay," Clint soothed. "You're safe here, I'm not mad, I promise. I can ask Nat if I need some help." He set Bucky down on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, reappearing with some baby wipes, some towels, and his giant first aid kit from Tony "for emergencies."

"If you need me to, I can leave," Bucky started, but Clint cut him off.

"You live here, I'm not kicking you out," Clint retorted, setting the stuff on the bed. "Can I take off your shirt?" he asked gently. Bucky nodded slowly, and Clint started cutting the bloody, tattered fabric away from Bucky's chest, doing his best to keep a straight face as he took in all the cuts along his torso.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, honey. This was my fault."

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Sneak in, download some files, sneak out. Clint would get the information, Bucky would stand guard, and they'd be in an out in less than an hour.

Until it all went wrong, and Hydra kidnapped Bucky while Clint was still inside. They left a note, signed with the Hydra symbol, simply saying that they had "retrieved their asset." Clint had tried to follow them, to find where they took Bucky, but he couldn't seem to pick up the trail. A month later, he had given up hope—until Bucky showed up at his door, bruised and battered.

"I should've known they'd be coming back for me. Even after we figured out how to fix all my triggers, after I started fitting in a little better… It was only a matter of time. They wanted the Soldier back."

"Shh, it's ok," Clint told him. He started gently cleaning the blood from Bucky's face, whispering senseless reassurances as he rubbed away the blood and dirt.

"I'm sor—I'm—Clint, I—"

"Hey, I'm not mad. I promise, whatever happens, I'm here for you. I won't be mad, okay? If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, just tell me." He put a soft hand on Bucky's shoulder, withdrawing when Bucky flinched.

"Can I clean your shoulder?" Clint asked. Bucky slowly nodded, and Clint put his hand back, dabbing at the exposed wound with the baby wipe. He continued in silence, finishing all the cuts and tossing the wipes in the trash. He sat next to Bucky, close but not touching so he didn't accidentally freak him out. Bucky closed the distance between them, curling into Clint's chest like a lonely puppy, and Clint ran his fingers through Bucky's hair, gently loosening the knots.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I don't know if it worked or not, but…." Bucky sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"They tried to brainwash me again." Clint's eyes widened, but he didn't stop playing with Bucky's hair. Your fault.

"It's okay though. You're still Bucky, not the Soldier anymore. Right?" He sounded scared, and Bucky's heart plummeted.

"I—I don't know." A tear dripped down his face, falling onto his lap. "They got into my head, but—but I don't know if they're still there. I tried to resist, I did. Really—"

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not mad, alright?" Bucky nodded, blinking furiously. "Do you want a shower? That'll make you feel better, and then we can talk afterwards. I'll make some mac-n-cheese, and how about I get you some clean clothes? I'll run them through the dryer for you."

"I—I appreciate it, but…"

"What is it, Buck?"

"You really don't have to do this. You—If you really knew all the stuff I've done, you wouldn't wanna be this close." Clint sat up and looked Bucky straight in the eyes.

"That wasn't your fault, and I'm not gonna judge you for it, okay? Now, is your leg alright or do you need some help?"

"Just a cut, I think," Bucky replied. Clint nodded and pressed a quick kiss to Bucky's forehead, then helped him step out of his pants and sit down to examine the cut. Satisfied that it wasn't too deep, he cleaned it up with another baby wipe and then helped Bucky walk to the shower.

"You sure you're good? Don't pass out, please," Clint joked, trying to stay upbeat for Bucky's sake. Bucky nodded and did his best to smile back as he closed the door and turned on the water. Clint gathered some pajama pants and one of his sweatshirts, tossing them in the dryer on his way to the kitchen. He put some water on to boil and pulled out the mac-n-cheese, and before he knew it the dryer was beeping angrily. He may have cursed at it once or twice before bringing the clothes to the bedroom, but no one needed to know that. A few minutes later, Bucky emerged in the clothes Clint had found: pajamas with purple rubber ducks and a purple sweatshirt.

"I'm ruining your aesthetic," Clint joked. Bucky at least looked cleaner and less likely to pass out than he did twenty minutes ago, but he still looked exhausted. Clint finished the mac-n-cheese and served some into two bowls, handing one to Bucky and guiding him towards the table. He quietly sat down in front of the macaroni, wincing when the chair scraped along the floor. Clint took the pan off the burner, making sure nothing would catch fire, and he came into the table a few moments later. Bucky was still sitting in the same position he had been when Clint left, and his bowl was untouched.

"You can eat, honey," Clint gently reminded Bucky, sliding into the chair opposite him. Bucky looked up like he had something to say, but then looked back down and started devouring his mac-n-cheese. Once he finished, he sat quietly, until Clint was done.

"Could I-" he started, but cut himself off. "Never mind, I'm sorry! I-"

"What is it?" Clint asked.

"I, uh, could I have some more?"

"Of course." Clint smiled, trying not to show how much his heart was breaking. This is your fault. He spooned the rest of the macaroni into a bowl and brought it back, and Bucky finished it just as fast as the first one.

"Thank you," he whispered. Clint smiled, kissing the top of his head.

"You wanna get some sleep?" he asked. Bucky nodded, and Clint helped him to the bedroom, tucking him under the covers.

"Could-Could you stay for a bit?" Bucky asked, his voice trembling, and Clint nodded.

"Of course, baby." He slid under the covers, pulling Bucky close. Once he felt safe, Bucky dozed off in record time, and Clint followed soon after.

/

Clint woke up to Bucky tossing and turning, mumbling pleas to an invisible captor. "Bucky," he whispered, gently shaking Bucky's shoulder. "Wake up, baby, it's just a dream." Bucky sat bolt upright, looking around. He sighed in relief when he saw Clint next to him.

"I'm sorry for waking-" he started.

"Shh, it's okay," Clint reassured him, gently rubbing his back. Nightmares, he could deal with. "Do you need to talk about it?" Bucky just shook his head.

"I-I'm okay. Don't worry about it." He moved infinitesimally closer, and Clint put his arm around him.

"Do you wanna try and go back to sleep, or just get up?" he asked. "It's already 4:30, so it's your call. I don't mind getting up."

"Can we just-stay up I guess?" Bucky asked quetly.

"Yeah, of course," Clint yawned. "Coffee?"

"Yes please."

"I love you, baby," Clint whispered as he pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky's nose. Bucky smiled and leaned in for a second kiss, his chapped lips brushing against Clint's.

"I love you too."


End file.
